“She came over one day looking for an apartment. I was hoping for a cool-ass dude I could get drunk with and chase girls with. But this gorgeous blonde showed up on my doorstep with an adorable pouty face and something told me to give her a shot. I don’t usually listen to that part of my brain. But I listened this one time and I’m so glad I did. You want to know why?”
“Why?” I ask breathlessly.
“Because she’s giving me a ride to school.” He grins down at me.
I laugh in disbelief and shove him. He shoves me back. Soon we’re having a shoving match in the parking lot and my laughter is sweet and new.
Raising my hands in surrender, I relent. “I give up.”
“Loser.” He shoves me softly one more time and then winks.
When we get to my car I take my keys out of my purse and hand them to him. He opens my door for me.
“How gentlemanly,” I compliment.
“Not a word usually used to describe me.”
“Whose fault is that?”
“I wasn’t the one describing me.” He closes my door and walks around front, sitting down and adjusting the driver’s seat to accommodate his height.
I can’t help feeling like the seat is the least of it. He’s changing things about my life, making room within my walls. He’s carving out a piece and I have to trust he won’t destroy the entire thing.
I take a deep breath and think for the millionth time what I’m doing as he drives. He can make me feel so good in one moment and then so unsure in another.
“You better not be doing what I think you’re doing.” He cuts the engine at a pancake house. “Look at me.”
I do.
He reaches over and touches my face with the back of his knuckles. “Remember who I am.”
I close my eyes and take another deep breath, conjuring up images of us wrapped around each other. I leave out the bad parts, the ones that want our end, and only focus on the parts that crave this possible beginning. “Let’s go eat.”
As we’re walking to the crowded pancake house Kent grabs my hand. “I haven’t held a girl’s hand in a long time.”
“How is it?”
“Satisfying,” he says. “Now everyone knows who you’re with.”
I walk closer to him and revel in the feeling of his hand wrapped around mine in public. It’s the first time I’ve held hands with a guy. It’s such a simple gesture. But inside it feels like so much more. Kent has gotten so many firsts from me I fear what might happen when this month is over.
When we enter the restaurant we wiggle in with everyone else waiting to be seated. We’re left standing. There aren’t any seats left. Families mingle, talking about football and the weather while their kids run around. Couples snuggle close to each other. Kent and I stay toward the back after giving the hostess his name. I watch one couple in particular. The way they look into each other’s eyes you know their love is real. I wonder if he makes her doubt everything she’s ever known.
Did he need a month?
I drop Kent’s hand and cross my arms over my chest. I can see him out the corner of my eye watching me, clearly concerned by my obvious mood change. But we’re in public and Kent can’t be himself. He sighs and leans against the wall.
“Kent! Table for two!” the hostess calls.
We’re seated in the busiest section. The waitress, a petite girl no older than eighteen, eyes Kent as we sit down to the overpowering smell of bacon and coffee permeating the restaurant.
“Good afternoon. Our special today,” she stutters, looking at him like he’s the special, “is buttermilk pancakes with honey butter and a side of thick-cut bacon. Can I start y’all off with some coffee or orange juice?”
He leans over to read her nametag. “I’d love a cup of coffee, Gabby.”
“Of course.” Gabby takes a moment to realize I am sitting across from him. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll have some tea. With honey,” I add sullenly.
When she’s gone I glare at him.
“You can’t cut every woman’s eyes out for noticing me.” He looks up from his menu, gaze amused.
“I don’t want to cut them out so much as claw at them.” I smile sweetly. “Could you lay off the flirting? It upsets me.”
I think he’ll say something Kent-like, something crass and rude,